


A Diplomatic Affair

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ex Sex, Hate Sex, M/M, Master/Slave, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:43:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After escaping from the imperial court where he'd been kept as a prize war trophy, Sio returns fifteen years later as a diplomat.





	1. Chapter 1

Sio blew out a breath, smoothing the lines of the court robes over his chest. It felt heavy and unnatural, being back in Arjantium like this, not just because of the oppressive midsummer heat. The chain of his new ambassadorship lay heavy over his shoulders as well, nothing like the comforting weight of armor and entirely too like the last time he’d been here.  
  
“His Majesty will see you now, ambassador,” the steward said, gesturing Sio and his entourage forward. Sio took one last deep breath before leading the way forward, through the massive gilded doors that had once loomed so large in his imagination.  
  
The doors opened onto a grand hall that was at once familiar and claustrophobically different, the crowd of onlookers to either side of the grand processional to the throne murmuring more quietly than the last time Sio was dragged in front of the throne. The floor tipped dangerously under his feet as Sio tries to ground himself at the sight of Temuran up on his throne, reminding himself of his secretary and assistants at his back, the robe and chain of office, his thick leather boots keeping his feet from the cold marble floor.  
  
Temuran—had aged well, much as Sio hated to admit it. Just as heavily muscled as when they’d been younger men but sharper, losing his indolent sleekness with age. He’d acquired another scar and a new pet since the last time Sio saw him, the scar across his cheek and the pet draped against his thigh, mostly naked and jeweled with Temuran’s hand in his pretty blond hair. Sio resolutely did not look at the skinny thing, lithe and young and pretty as Sio used to be.  
  
Without prompting from the steward, Sio stopped his little party at precisely the correct spot, making precisely the correct bow as the steward announced them. Not a millimeter lower, Sio straightening perhaps not precisely slow enough with his back stiff. “On behalf of the kingdom of Haefeli, the honorable Ambassador Siovlat Dalca,” the steward intoned.  
  
Sio gestured for his secretary to read their letter of credential from the Foreign Office, feeling the weight of the court behind them and the weight of Temuran looking him over, bored and disinterested with another routine piece of business of little importance. Sio did not wonder whether Temuran had fucked his pretty blond pet in the adjournment immediately prior to their audience. He could feel Temuran searching him for something, not quite recognizing him in formal robes, older and heavier with the muscle of too many seasons of war on the frontier.  
  
And then, it was Sio’s turn. As the ambassador, as the formal representative, because he’d been in this place all those years ago, as a very different sort of representative. He cleared his throat.  
  
“Your Majesty,” Sio began, voice rougher than he would have liked, and how long had it been since he had to call anyone that, let alone Temuran.  
  
He saw the realization in Temuran’s eyes, gone from searching to sharp and focused in an instant, as soon as he heard Sio’s voice, and what cruel irony was that. Sio swallowed hard and pressed on. He’d known this would happen, had been rehearsing it in his head the whole journey here, but it was different having to stand there with the whole court watching, wondering who else recognized him, feeling as though he’s been undressed with the look Temuran gave him.  
  
“The Haefeli Embassy humbly presents its compliments to the high court of Arjantium,” Sio said, managing to not stumble this time, “and has the honor to respectfully request the resumption of diplomatic relations between our two nations, in the hopes that we might one day again be as good of friends as in former times.” Sio felt his cheeks heat, the formal language of the request like ashes in his mouth as a sly smile spread across Temuran’s face.  
  
The moment stretched out, Sio’s stomach twisting as he waited for Temuran’s judgement, feeling stripped bare as ever. He held Temuran’s look, defiant as he hadn’t dared to be in years.  
  
“Come,” Temuran said finally, with a snap of his fingers. “Ambassador,” he added, for formality’s sake, but even the pretty pet at his feet looked up at the rudeness of it, snapping his fingers at a foreign dignitary the way he would a slave.  
  
Sio took the letter of credential from his secretary with hands steadier than he felt. The stairs to the throne were unfamiliar in heavy boots and robes, Sio picking his way carefully up to the dias lest he send himself sprawling at Temuran’s feet.  
  
Temuran gave him an indulgent smile as Sio knelt on the final step, not for the first time and unfortunately not for the last. Sio clenched his jaw so tightly it ached as Temuran held out his hand for the letter of credential. So close, he could smell Temuran again for the first time in years, as warm and intimate and heady as in Sio’s dreams. Their hands brushed as Temuran took the letter from him, Sio forcing himself not to recoil back from the brush of Temuran’s fingers over his.  
  
Temuran unfolded the letter and looked at it contemplatively, as much a farce as it had ever been after the secretary read it aloud, stretching out the indignity of having Sio kneeling at his feet again for so long. Sio held himself rigidly still, unmoving as a bead of sweat itched down his back.  
  
Then the moment Sio had been dreading most. Temuran turned that radiant, triumphant smile on him, folding away the letter of credential like a love note, and he held out his hand with its ring of state for Sio to kiss.

Sio looked him dead in the eye and kissed it without hesitation. Its stone was cool and smooth, smaller than Sio remembered it from a lifetime ago.  
  
Not turning his attention from Sio, Temuran gestured at the steward. “His Majesty Temuransius the fourth Monomachos, Emperor of Arjantium and Haefeli the lesser, king of the outer Skeleroi and ruler of all the Obotrites, welcomes the Haefeli Embassy to court,” the steward announced.  
  
And with that, the hardest part of the ordeal was over. Sio stood, knees protesting stiffly with Temuran still watching him like a cat, because no matter how many hours he’d knelt in another life, he hadn’t in years. He made his final bow to Temuran, precisely as formal and respectful as required, and turned to make his way down the stairs.  
  
“Welcome home, pet,” Temuran said to his back, quiet enough than only he, Sio, and the pretty toy in Sio’s old place could hear.


	2. Chapter 2

After—after he’d slinked home to the embassy, and slept, and bathed—Sio felt mostly human again, except for the lingering unease of the palace looming right outside his window. Haefeli still couldn’t afford much for its embassies, struggling after decades of rebellion, but whoever had purchased the embassy had done the best they could, with a clear view down the boulevard of the palace and its grounds, a small house in a fashionable neighborhood.

Codrin brought him his dinner in the study, cold cuts of roast and thick bread while the kitchen staff were settling in. The food at least was a comfort, the staff all from Haefeli with none of the Arjantium proclivity for eye-watering spiciness and perfumed sauces. Sio picked at it irritably anyway, writing his report back to the Foreign Office.

More irritable as he finished, Codrin bringing the day’s letters and calling cards. A stack of them from the other embassies, sent as soon as the Emperor deigned to recognize the diplomatic mission, invitations to receptions and cultural events and all the tedious business of politics that had bored Sio to tears when he sat at Temuran’s feet for it.

And at the bottom, the plainest of them all, an invitation in the neat, slanted script of Temuran’s personal secretary. A palace reception in the Esteemed Ambassador Dalca of Haefeli’s honor, because of course.

* * *

The day of the wretched thing Sio spent snapping at his assistants, Codrin, the household staff, and anyone who came within range, the lot of them fluttering like nervous chickens. Most of them were old enough to remember the war, but the junior-most of the embassy staff weren’t, frivolous little things who spoke Arjanta out of the academies and thought it exciting to have an evening out from under Sio’s watchful eye to flirt and gawk at the spectacle of the imperial court that they’d heard so many nursery horror stories of and seen only the dazzling sparkle.

Sio shut his mouth with a snap the third time Codrin stuck him with a pin, allowing himself to be dressed like he was about to be presented to Temuran on a platter. Which, in a way, he was.

* * *

Nightfall offered no relief from the oppressive midsummer heat, humidity hanging in the air as they made their way through the palace grounds and were announced into the reception hall. Sio tugged at the collar of his linen coat, feeling like a bear dressed and made to dance.

And at the end of the sparkling, perfumed hall, was Temuran, on the low throne used for intimate, informal occasions. Such as this humiliation of Sio in front of every dignitary in the capital. Sio made his formal bows, presented his junior staff, and ignored the rudely appraising look he was getting from Temuran’s new pet.

“Ambassador,” Temuran said, in the same warm, pleased voice he used to say _you pretty little slut._ “We are so very grateful you were able to grace us with your presence.”

“We are humbly grateful for the honor, your majesty.”

“And the pleasure is all mine,” Temuran smiled, in that voice that had always made Sio weak in the knees. Temuran stood, the pretty little pet at his heels, stepping into Sio’s space.

Sio was, he realized with a start, taller than Temuran now. He’d known he’d gone home taller than when he’d arrived, his last growth spurt around twenty when Temuran complained bitterly that Sio was getting too old, too broad, too churlish to be worth much any more, but in his mind’s eye Temuran had always loomed so much larger than he saw himself. It was vertiginous, realizing it had been true all this time.

Temuran gave him a frank look up and down, like he’d just realized it too. “You look well, though I have to say the ambassadorship doesn’t seem to suit you.”

“It suits me fine,” Sio snapped back, face hot at letting himself be needled so easily and stomach tight for the consequences it could have had, another time.

“As you say,” Temuran said. Indulgent like he used to be, sometimes, in a good mood, and Sio hated himself for the way he almost wanted to curl into that tone. Temuran reached out to straighten Sio’s chain of office where it lay over his shoulders, casual as he was a lifetime ago. _Sio, can you do nothing right._ “I wondered when I heard the new ambassador’s name, but I didn’t think it was truly you. Sio being such a _common_ name among your people.”

“As Temuran is among yours. Majesty,” Sio said, tongue thick despite the moment’s satisfaction of needling Temuran back.

“Well,” Temuran said, curt. “We should get a few affairs of state out of the way before supper, don’t you think, Ambassador?”

“As you wish, Majesty,” Sio said, allowing himself to be swept along, following at Temuran’s heels like the pretty little pet, who gave him a sideways look. Impudent, risking the back of Temuran’s hand or worse, if he was caught at it. Sio told himself that he’d known this was going to happen when he accepted the post; the business of diplomacy was done first behind doors and then in court. He’d prepared for anything Temuran might do to throw him off balance.

The crowd parted for them, Temuran leading them to a private chamber set aside for such things. Sio wondered for a moment if Temuran picked that one because he’d fucked Sio there, but Temuran had fucked him in most of the side chambers of the reception hall at one time or another, so he let the thought go.

“Out,” Temuran snapped at the pet as soon as they reached the chamber, sending the skinny thing all but running out of the room with a relieved glance at Sio. Sio remembered that feeling, the relief and anxiety of being out from under Temuran’s mercurial attention for a moment.

Temuran crossed the room without a backwards look at either Sio or the boy, going to pour himself a delicate glass of the sharp liquor he’d always favored, Sio could smell it across the room. Sio hesitated; to get himself a glass, he’d have to put himself near Temuran again; to wait on Temuran left the possibility that Temuran could snub him, pouring only one glass.

So Sio sat on the divan instead, something he’d have never dared a lifetime ago, but which equals did all the time, in private audience. Which ambassadors did, because Sio was an ambassador now, something he hated himself for needing to remember.

Temuran finally turned his attention to Sio, giving him a bemused look over the rim of his glass, and Sio had to push down the moment’s panic that tried to flutter in his chest. It was nearly fifteen years since he’d last let Temuran raise a hand to him; even alone, he wouldn’t dare.

Temuran took a sip of his glass, like he was thinking it over, letting Sio sit there on the edge of the divan fighting the urge to slip down to the floor and beg for forgiveness. Then the moment passed, and Temuran took a seat across from Sio, easy and sprawling like he was at home, and not in a formal audience. He pointedly did not pour or offer Sio a drink, taking another measured sip of his own to underline it. That was fine; the syrupy stuff had always gone straight to Sio’s head, making him sleepy and pliant.

“The terms your Foreign Office wants are simply untenable, you may as well tell them that right now,” Temuran said without preamble, shifting the floor under Sio’s feet yet again. Out of all the ways he’d expected this private audience to go, cutting directly to the business of his office was not it.

“Your own councillors have been pushing for—”

“They do not set policy, which you ought to know as well as anyone. The tariffs will remain in place, the reparations will continue, and your army will remain as tiny and useless as it has ever been.”

“Your merchants have been lobbying for lowered tariffs for years, the border cannot—“

“I hear that the boy you’re fucking is quite pretty,” Temuran said smoothly, cutting him off. “You should have brought him along—or are you still the jealous sort?”

So there it was. Sio sat back in his seat, at once relieved by the predictable turn of the conversation and shocked despite himself that Temuran’s intelligence service had moved so quickly.

It must have shown on his face; Sio had always been too open, especially to Temuran. “Oh, Sio,” Temuran said, in his disappointed voice. _Sio, you stupid slut._ “You didn't really think you'd get to keep any secrets as an ambassador, did you? By all means, hire new staff and send me the bill—bring them all the way from Haefeli, even—but they won't stay unbought for long. No one does.”

“Were you going to talk business or not?” Sio said, voice rough. Nearing forty and he still let Temuran needle him like he was seventeen and embarrassed to be caught making eyes at the palace guards.

Temuran sat back in his chair. “Sio. I’m not negotiating with you. Send my compliments to your father and give the Foreign Office my thanks for this very amusing diversion.”

Sio stood, veins gone ice cold. This he had been expecting. “Then I’ll be speaking with your foreign affairs office. Good night, majesty.”

“Sit down,” Temuran said, voice gone cold. Sio nearly folded at the knees.

Instead, he balled his fists at his sides. “No,” he said, the rush of saying no to Temuran for this first time in nearly twenty years heady and terrifying.

Temuran put down his glass, standing slowly. Before, Sio would have gotten his belt or the back of his hand for just daring to hesitate. This insolence—he’d defied Temuran like this once, and then never again.

Temuran walked around the divan, coming to stand in Sio’s space, chest to chest. Looming, for all that he was inches shorter than Sio, and Sio hoped he felt each and every one of them. “You’re a runaway slave,” Temuran said cooly. “I could have you branded and sold on the street corner tonight.”

“And start the war with Haefeli again? You wouldn’t dare,” Sio scoffed, with confidence he didn’t feel. Because Temuran yet could, the worst case scenario Sio had gambled against, the old terror Temuran had held over him all those years.

* * *

If Sio had been expecting the needling, the snubs, the attempt to put him back in his place, he’d never in a thousand lifetimes expected Temuran to grab him roughly by the chin and kiss him.

Sio stumbled back with one of Temuran’s hands on his chest pushing him towards the low serving table at the side of the room, and the thinking, rational part of Sio knew exactly where this was going, and that he should push back while he still had the chance. He was taller than Temuran now, he had the strength for it, and there would be—nearly no consequences. But he couldn’t think beyond Temuran’s hot mouth on his and his cock gone suddenly, painfully hard.

Then he caught up against the table, going sprawling back over it with Temuran’s hand fisted in his coat. There would be no getting the wrinkles out of the linen for the rest of the evening. Temuran gave him that smug, satisfied look that said Sio was going to regret his impudence after whatever came next, and that Temuran was going to throughly enjoy the process. He licked his teeth as he roughly undid the buttons of Sio’s trousers, and there was no hiding how hard he was. As if Sio had ever been able to hide anything from Temuran.

“Oh, _Sio,_ ” Temuran said as he yanked Sio’s trousers open and sent the last button flying. “You always were too eager for your own good.”

Before Sio could even draw a breath to protest, Temuran flipped him over bodily, pushing his long court coat up and shoving his trousers down. Sio got his hands under himself, only to have Temuran shove him down with a hand on the back of his neck; if Sio was taller, Temuran was still stronger. The weight was almost as comfortingly familiar as the sudden wetness of Temuran spitting on his asshole was sickeningly familiar, Temuran pushing his thumb in without preamble.

“Did you miss me, pet?” Temuran said, pulling on the tight rim of his ass in a way that made Sio’s breath hitch and his cock leak. “You haven’t been fucked in years, have you? You always got recalcitrant when you hadn’t been fucked properly for too long.”

Sio growled and tried to push himself up, to get away or protest, but Temuran kept him in his place with one hand hard across the back of Sio’s neck like a collar and his other splayed wide across the muscle of Sio’s ass. And with that, Temuran replaced his thumb with the blunt tip of his cock, and all the fight went out of Sio as Temuran pulled his hips back and fucked into him in one brutal stroke.

When Sio had imagined the possibility of this—when he wasn’t shamefully stroking his cock at the thought of it—he had imagined himself pushing Temuran away, spitting in his face, pulling his dignity around him like a cloak and stalking away in the safety of his office. 

Instead, he moaned against the hard surface of the table, his chain of office crushing into his chest. 

Temuran laughed dirtily, fisting a hand in Sio’s hair, ruining all of Codrin’s hard work to make him presentable. And hadn’t Temuran always loved that, sending Sio away to be perfumed and waxed and made up, and then ruining him in the most visible way possible; just this time it had taken fifteen years. Sio could already tell he was going to be ruined by the end of this, sweat slick over every inch of him and threatening to soak through the back of his long court coat.

Temuran’s cock was thick as ever, making Sio feel split open wide until Temuran’s thighs were flush against his ass, grinding into him before shoving Sio away and pulling him back. It hurt, it hurt nearly as much as the first time, but it had been years and his cock jerked and leaked as Temuran fucked him roughly, faster with each thrust.

A traitorous shiver ran from Sio’s scalp and down his back, straight to his cock as Temuran yanked him up by the hair. “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you,” Temuran panted in his ear, leaning down over him. His hand flexed on Sio’s hip. Close, so soon, and there was a small part of Sio satisfied that he could still make Temuran come so quickly. “Are you going to cry this time too? You were so pretty the first time, trying to put on a brave show.”

Sio threw an elbow back, aiming for Temuran’s sternum. He may have already lost this fight, lost it years ago, but he didn’t have to go as easily as the first time.

Temuran jerked away just in time, catching only a glancing blow as he laughed delightedly and wrenched Sio’s arm behind his back, still holding him by the hair. “So you do want it like old times,” Temuran said, relentless. “I’ll give you that, you were never boring. The new one is more obedient than you ever were, but you were never boring.”

“Go to hell,” Sio spat, bent painfully backwards as Temuran fucked him, the chain of office swinging against his chest. 

“The mouth on you,” Temuran said, releasing Sio’s arm to slap him across the ass. Sio shuddered despite himself, gasping raggedly as his balls drew traitorously tight, threatening to come.

Temuran laughed breathlessly. “Beg for it,” Temuran said, mouth hot against his ear.

“No,” Sio panted. 

Temuran yanked his hair again as he fucked Sio harder, making tears stand in his eyes. “ _Beg,_ ” he demanded again.

“No,” Sio snapped, and got Temuran’s hot mouth on his neck, biting sharply right above his coat collar where anyone might see. Right where Temuran used to bite right above his slave collar, because anyone could see.

And goddamn his traitorous cock, that did it, Sio coming undone like he was being shattered into tiny pieces, writhing against the table as he came harder than he had in years. Not a single touch to his cock and he came just from being fucked over a table like nothing had changed. Temuran fucked him relentlessly through it, Sio trying to weakly pull himself away, over sensitive and shivering under Temuran’s hands on his ass.

Temuran finished in him in quick, sharp strokes, pulling Sio’s ass back against him to grind his cock so Sio could feel the thick pulses of come leaking out around him. He drew it out, thrusting into Sio again to make him shudder, petting him in a parody of tenderness as he pulled out and wiped his cock on the back of Sio’s thigh.

“I don't care for so much muscle in a catamite, but I suppose I can make an exception for old times' sake,” Temuran said archly, putting himself back together as Sio stood shakily, trying not to lean on the table. As though he’d just done Sio a favor. “At least you finally grew into that nose of yours.”

Sio pulled his trousers up with as much bruised dignity as he could muster, buttoning the long coat despite the heat to hide his missing trouser button. He tugged the collar of the coat up to hide what he could feel was going to be a dark bruise. Temuran watched him with a smug look, draping himself back in his chair to take a leisurely sip of his glass as Sio dressed.

Sio smoothed the lines of his wrinkled coat over his chest. “You’d have never recognized the embassy if you didn’t need the treaty just as much as we do,” he said finally when he’d pulled together the shreds of his tattered dignity. His legs were shaky as the first time Temuran had fucked him, ass sore and leaking come. “I’ll see you at the foreign affairs office,” he said, enjoying the sour look on Temuran’s face. Sio swept out of there while he could still tell himself he’d won that round. Even if the cost was his dignity and he could tell Temuran was going to make him pay for that last little jab.

As soon as he was discreetly able to, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, lips still nearly burning. Out of everything else, he had the least idea what to do with that; Temuran had never kissed him before.


End file.
